


Meord

by jessieb



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessieb/pseuds/jessieb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celeborn is sat in his study feeling rather 'drizzley'</p><p> </p><p>Meord means 'fine rain' in Nandorin, I believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meord

**Author's Note:**

> It was raining today, very April shower-ish. This barely-a-scene came out of nowhere and rather than try and put it in a plot, I prefer to retain it as it is, as a writing exercise. I probably wouldn't put it up if there wasn't such a dearth of these two :) 
> 
> Standalone, but could be related to 'The Voyeur' if you wanted. 
> 
> p.s. I like the term Thranduil uses for Celeborn's behaviour because in my mind he could be quite polite, referring to an aggressive fish. He could also be saying Celeborn is being sharp and brutal, like the weapon. He could also be referring to a weapon as a euphemism... Please forgive me for lack of subtlety-I just think that would be so Thranduil!

The sound of drizzle on the mallorn’s leaves was restful and lulling, so much so that he was resting between Now and Then and Perhaps in his mind when the plaintive two-note call of a golden plover sifted into his thoughts. What would such a bird be doing here in March? He heaved himself back to the flet and turned in his chair from the view to where the call had sounded behind him. Against the doorframe leant Thranduil, not damp from the rain per se but with a light mist settled over his clothing, threatening to soak into the cloth at the slightest touch. His hair was, in fact, damp, and just beginning to curl in places, as it usually did. Celeborn felt a smile come immediately, without effort or premeditation. Thankfully, the delight in his voice balanced the ineloquence of his exclamation.

‘Why have you returned so early?’

Thranduil made a point of considering the question.

‘A little bird tells me you are being something of a pike this morning, and I wondered why. That, and I believe it will rain in earnest shortly.‘

‘I think you may be correct.’ He turned his hand to rest palm up, arm extended upon the desk, and was gratified when Thranduil obligingly sat beside him and rested his hand in Celeborn’s. His skin was slick, and the smell of soil and new grass rose from his garb, warmed by his body. Celeborn ran his thumb over the back of his hand as he spoke.   

‘You understand, of course, that you consider me so reasonable simply because when I am with you, I am always in good spirits.’

A wry smile touched Thranduil’s lips.

‘Flattery will get you some distance, Cous, but not that far.’

‘It is not flattery, dearest.’

Thranduil was quiet a moment; not quite able to have faith in what he said, but willing to accept and acknowledge that Celeborn felt it was true.

‘Out with it.’ he said, finally. ‘If you are being sour even when I am here, I do no-‘

‘Here is not _here._ There is great difference between your being here in Lothlorien and being here with me thus.’

‘I know,’ Thranduil murmured. ‘Yet it is far preferable to our usual arrangement.’

Most preferable to spending greater than a Yen with leagues between them. His reflexive withdrawal from the mere thought and memory was not fast enough to pre-empt the near-nausea that was prompted whenever he remembered that Thranduil must once more leave so soon. A similar grief could be heard in Thranduil’s voice. He contemplated the thin branch they walked whenever they discussed this, or rather did not discuss it. He hoped his smile was reassuring.

‘I assure you that I am simply being aged and cantankerous, and these little birds of yours do not understand how time wears on one. You carry your years much more gracefully than I.’ _Not good enough_. ‘If there is anything, I suppose the developments with the Naugrim concern me.’

Thranduil turned grim for a moment. ‘They concern us all.’ Still, he eyed Celeborn speculatively. ‘As long as you’re sure.’

His eyes were so vivid in hue, Celeborn thought, not for the first time by far. He touched Thranduil’s jaw with the fingertips of his other hand, guided him to meet him in a single lingering kiss. He stayed close, and saw Thranduil’s eyelashes dip fleetingly when he spoke.

‘Let me show you how sure.’

 

 


End file.
